LITMIR.BIZ

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strictly forbidden to associate with and so dazzle them. As for Tremorel, Jenny submitted to him from necessity. He seemed to her the most tiresome of men. She thought his friends the dreariest of beings. Perhaps she perceived beneath their ironically polite manner, a contempt for her, and understood of how little consequence she was to these rich people, these high livers, gamblers, men of the world. Her pleasures comprised an evening with someone of her own class, card-playing, at which she won, and a midnight supper. The rest of the time she suffered ennui. She was wearied to death: A hundred times she was on the point of discarding Tremorel, abandoning all this luxury, money, servants, and resuming her old life. Many a time she packed up; her vanity always checked her at the last moment.

      Hector de Tremorel rang at her door at eleven on the morning in question. She did not expect him so early, and she was evidently surprised when he told her he had come to breakfast, and asked her to hasten the cook, as he was in a great hurry.

      She had never, she thought, seen him so amiable, so gay. All through breakfast he sparkled, as he promised himself he would, with spirit and fun. At last, while they were sipping their coffee, Hector spoke:

      “All this, my dear, is only a preface, intended to prepare you for a piece of news which will surprise you. I am a ruined man.”

      She looked at him with amazement, not seeming to comprehend him.

      “I said—ruined,” said he, laughing bitterly, “as ruined as man can be.”

      “Oh, you are making fun of me, joking—”

      “I never spoke so seriously in my life. It seems strange to you, doesn’t it? Yet it’s sober truth.”

      Jenny’s large eyes continued to interrogate him.

      “Why,” he continued, with lofty carelessness, “life, you know, is like a bunch of grapes, which one either eats gradually, piece by piece, or squeezes into a glass to be tossed off at a gulp. I’ve chosen the latter way. My grape was four million francs; they are drunk up to the dregs. I don’t regret them, I’ve had a jolly life for my money. But now I can flatter myself that I am as much of a beggar as any beggar in France. Everything at my house is in the bailiff’s hands—I am without a domicile, without a penny.”

      He spoke with increasing animation as the multitude of diverse thoughts passed each other tumultuously in his brain. And he was not playing a part. He was speaking in all good faith.

      “But—then—” stammered Jenny.

      “What? Are you free? Just so—”

      She hardly knew whether to rejoice or mourn.

      “Yes,” he continued, “I give you back your liberty.”

      Jenny made a gesture which Hector misunderstood.

      “Oh! be quiet,” he added quickly, “I sha’n’t leave you thus; I would not desert you in a state of need. This furniture is yours, and I have provided for you besides. Here in my pocket are five hundred napolйons; it is my all; I have brought it to give to you.”

      He passed the money over to her on a plate, laughingly, imitating the restaurant waiters. She pushed it back with a shudder.

      “Oh, well,” said he, “that’s a good sign, my dear; very good, very good. I’ve always thought and said that you were a good girl—in fact, too good; you needed correcting.”

      She did, indeed, have a good heart; for instead of taking Hector’s bank-notes and turning him out of doors, she tried to comfort and console him. Since he had confessed to her that he was penniless, she ceased to hate him, and even commenced to love him. Hector, homeless, was no longer the dreaded man who paid to be master, the millionnaire who, by a caprice, had raised her from the gutter. He was no longer the execrated tyrant. Ruined, he descended from his pedestal, he became a man like others, to be preferred to others, as a handsome and gallant youth. Then Jenny mistook the last artifice of a discarded vanity for a generous impulse of the heart, and was deeply touched by this splendid last gift.

      “You are not as poor as you say,” she said, “for you still have so large a sum.”

      “But, dear child, I have several times given as much for diamonds which you envied.”

      She reflected a moment, then as if an idea had struck her, exclaimed:

      “That’s true enough; but I can spend, oh, a great deal less, and yet be just as happy. Once, before I knew you, when I was young (she was now nineteen), ten thousand francs seemed to me to be one of those fabulous sums which were talked about, but which few men ever saw in one pile, and fewer still held in their hands.”

      She tried to slip the money into the count’s pocket; but he prevented it.

      “Come, take it back, keep it—”

      “What shall I do with it?”

      “I don’t know, but wouldn’t this money bring in more? Couldn’t you speculate on the Bourse, bet at the races, play at Baden, or something? I’ve heard of people that are now rich as kings, who commenced with nothing, and hadn’t your talents either. Why don’t you do as they did?”

      She spoke excitedly, as a woman does who is anxious to persuade. He looked at her, astonished to find her so sensitive, so disinterested.

      “You will, won’t you?” she insisted, “now, won’t you?”

      “You are a good girl,” said he, charmed with her, “but you must take this money. I give it to you, don’t be worried about anything.”

      “But you—have you still any money? What have you?”

      “I have yet—”

      He stopped, searched his pockets, and counted the money in his purse.

      “Faith, here’s three hundred and forty francs—more than I need. I must give some napolйons to your servants before I go.”

      “And what for Heaven’s sake will become of you?”

      He sat back in his chair, negligently stroked his handsome beard, and said:

      “I am going to blow my brains out.”

      “Oh!”

      Hector thought that she doubted what he said. He took his pistols out of his pockets, showed them to her, and went on:

      “You see these toys? Well, when I leave you, I shall go somewhere —no matter where—put the muzzle to my temple, thus, press the trigger—and all will be over!”

      She gazed at him, her eyes dilated with terror, pale, breathing hard and fast. But at the same time, she admired him. She marvelled at so much courage, at this calm, this careless railing tone. What superb disdain of life! To exhaust his fortune and then kill himself, without a cry, a tear, or a regret, seemed to her an act of heroism unheard of, unexampled. It seemed to her that a new, unknown, beautiful, radiant man stood before her. She loved him as she had never loved before!

      “No!” she cried, “no! It shall not be!”

      And rising suddenly, she rushed to him and seized him by the arm.

      “You will not kill yourself, will you? Promise me, swear it to me. It isn’t possible, you would not! I love you—I couldn’t bear you before. Oh, I did not know you, but now—come, we will be happy. You, who have lived with millions don’t know how much ten thousand francs are—but I know. We can live a long time on that, and very well, too. Then, if we are obliged to sell the useless things—the horses, carriages, my diamonds, my green cashmere, we can have three or four times that sum. Thirty thousand francs—it’s a fortune! Think how many happy days—”

      The Count de Tremorel shook his head, smilingly. He was ravished; his vanity was flattered by the heat of the passion which beamed from the poor girl’s eyes. How he was beloved! How he would be regretted! What a hero the world was about to lose!

      “For we will not stay here,” Jenny went on, “we will go and

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